


Decide

by dianasilverman



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 09:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15191693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianasilverman/pseuds/dianasilverman
Summary: A long drive allows Robin time for reflection.





	Decide

Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.  
Janis Joplin, “Me and Bobby McGee”

As a rule, Robin tried to avoid wallowing, even when her problems tried to pull her under. However, as she swerved violently to avoid a pothole, she couldn't help feeling that the endless Denmark Street roadworks mirrored the current state of her personal life. Despite the apparent efforts of the crews, the pavements stubbornly cracked and buckled, with new ruptures emerging even as the old ones were repaired. ‘Stop it’, Robin chided herself, refusing to sink any deeper into the metaphor. On any other day, she wouldn't have even gotten as far as she had, but she was uncharacteristically maudlin. The prospect of leaving London was the only thing allowing her to maintain her composure.

To her relief, Strike did not awake when she stole into the office to grab the file that she had accidentally left there the night before. Thoughts of him grumpily half-falling down the staircase to interrogate her as to why she was there at three in the morning had haunted her on the drive from Ealing. She realised now that her worries had been baseless. Hearing heavy, gentle snores from the floor above, she mused with a brief flash of humour that her boss didn't sleep so much as hibernated. The corners of her mouth tugged up, a feeling that had become unfamiliar.

She decided it was safe to move about the office as she pleased. The relevant paperwork was soon collected, along with coffee and biscuits for the road. She left a note: “Gone to see Hardacre like we planned. See you Wednesday”. Just as she was about to leave, her gaze lighted momentarily on the drawer containing a spare key to the upstairs flat. Not for the first time that morning, she crushed an errant thought before it could take shape.

Once the ancient Land Rover had successfully traversed the construction, the drive became uneasily calm. Even though it was early, the oppressive heat that had subsided with sunset was returning. It brought with it a fretful torpor, as though everything was lying in wait. Thick clouds hung low over the skyscrapers, blue and roiling. The gazes of pedestrians were fixed determinedly ahead as they rushed to find those things that had drawn them from slumber. A lonely dog barked and was answer by another that seemed miles away. When Robin passed the Thames, its steely waters blinked at her. She couldn't shake a feeling of surreality, as though she was still inside the restless dreams that had plagued her the night before.

When she saw the first sign for the M1, her breathing slowed fractionally. She had almost expected to hear from her husband before she managed to leave the city. Sadly, just because the call hadn't arrived didn't mean it wasn't imminent. ‘He's biding his time’, she thought resignedly.

Her life, once so carefully architected, was closing in on her. It was about time she admitted that to herself. She wanted to think that her problems dated back to the wedding, but it wasn't quite so simple. There were other times when she had kept silent and allowed inertia to make her choices for her.

Bearing ahead had become her only option. She was spared from indecision by the motorway, which had few exits. High guardrails gave it the feeling of a tunnel, an effect which was amplified by the endless yellow lights. The stars overhead were obscured by clouds. Her hands on the wheel were shaking, and her blouse was tear stained already. The sapphire on her finger glinted darkly in the half light. She took a sip of coffee and willed herself towards calm. If calm could not be achieved, she promised herself, then at least she would get to her destination. To that end, she dodged a lorry that was changing lanes, and pressed onward.

As she sped away from her problems momentarily, she could see them clearly laid out behind her.

Rows were routine in the Cunliffe household. Their fight the previous night, however, had been exceptional. Hostilities had started over dinner, with Matthew mentioning their future children, and Robin resenting his presumptuousness. They had spiraled from there, until the melee encompassed all of her shortcomings as a wife; her pathetic salary, her coldness in bed, and, of course, the infidelity of which she was so often accused. Her husband was a generally unimaginative person, but the sexual exploits that he invented for her and Strike were as colourful as they were fictional. She had no idea where he had even heard of some of the things she was apparently complicit in. All of this had been routine until Robin had gone to defend herself.

"He's never given me any sign he thinks of me like that", she had admonished.

"If you had heard the things he said-"

"What things?", then, feeling as though the floor had tipped under her, "When?".

"It's nothing. I misspoke, that's all." He had become suddenly conciliatory.

She had pressed on. Cornered, but defiant, he had finally revealed the story of the deleted message. When she asked about its contents, he refused to answer.  
More than a year had passed since Matthew had deleted the message.The months after her wedding seemed longer in Robin's recollection now that she knew she had been living them without knowing the full story. Thinking back on their countless car rides, dinners, and family holidays together turned her stomach. She felt violated, forced into a role that she might never have agreed to if she had had more information.

As the suburbs and the high walls gave way to pastoral greenery, the ominous clouds solidified into a wall of storms directly in her path. The sky darkened around her, and the first raindrops fell. The view was blurry and wet. Maybe it was because she was desperately tired, or maybe it was simply the relief of confronting how broken her life had become, but with every passing mile she came closer to honesty.

“What would I need to do”, she wondered, then cut herself off.

‘God damn it, Robin. Thinking it doesn't mean deciding anything.’ But she was aware that even thinking it represented a precipice.  
‘What would I need to do to leave my husband?’.

A flash of lightning lit the somber sky ahead of her.

There. That was it. The question that had been shadowing her for months, finally articulated, if only to herself, and not even out loud. Some of the answers to it were simple; searching for a new flat, calling Ilsa for help finding a lawyer. Her mother would share the news with their friends and family if asked. Other answers were not so easy. She would need to tell Matthew. He would undoubtedly beg her to change her mind.

Part of her couldn't believe she was considering this. A larger part was unsurprised.

A sign for the Yorkshire Dales and Lake District national parks whipped by her. She remembered driving this way not so long ago with Strike. She could now accept that her happiest recent memory hadn't been her wedding day, or her honeymoon. She had been frozen over for both. The moment that was shining in her recollection was soft and warm; this car, and Strike teasing her about a pony.

‘Strike.’ She might as well admit that he numbered among her problems.

It seemed he had become a physical presence in her car, smoking and carefully reserving judgement. From time to time, he told one of their old jokes, and disarmed her with a lopsided smile. There was a hint of his amber scent in the air. Then, because she was imagining him, he took her hand where it rested on the console, calloused fingers surprisingly gentle. He brushed his thumb against the inside of her wrist, sending shivers down her spine. His lips grazed the back of her hand and she leaned closer to him, forgetting everything for a second.

‘Fuck.’ Another tear slid down her cheek and she roughly brushed it away.

It occurred to her to ask why Strike had never mentioned the message. He must have wondered why she never referenced it, and he was no fool. She had known him to be duplicitous, she'd seen it pay off with clients. But she didn't think he would have hidden what Matthew had done from her if he'd known. That was beyond anything she thought him capable of. Another possibility presented itself; the contents of the message might have become embarrassing for him once she was a married woman. Her heartbeat fluttered. She wouldn't put deliberately avoiding a difficult subject, or assuming the existence of a mutual taboo, past him. They had, after all, gone months without mentioning the fact that he slept on a camp bed in the office.

Alone in the car, her curiosity was slowly driving her mad. While she could guess at the majority of the message's text, there was something in it that had made Matthew go far out of his way to hide it. She suspected that at least part must have been about more than simply her job.

Whatever Cormoran’s lost words had been, they were vital to her.

Time passed, although she didn't notice.The storm raged all around her, with wind so strong it nearly pulled the ancient Land Rover from its course. High, swirling drifts of rain curled in the gale and lashed the windscreen. The sun rose behind the clouds, pale yellow and feeble. Midday had arrived, but the road was unchanged. Small towns flew by in the gloom. Soon, the first sign for Edinburgh appeared, blurred by the deluge. It's appearance jolted Robin from her reverie. A sense of urgency propelled her forward. The future was unknown, but the present was unlivable. Having come to terms with this, she had an opportunity to fix things.

'Decide.' Her mother's words echoed in her ears.

Robin breathed in, thinking, not just only of last night's events, or of the terrible first year of her marriage, but of ten years of shared experience and love. She thought back to the first time she had ever seen Matthew; the third day of primary school. He had stolen her scissors, and she had thought him brilliant. They had shared so much that leaving him now would seem asymmetric, broken. Matt had been a constant in her life when so much else had changed, had stayed with her when she couldn't be touched, had moved with her to the big city to start their lives together, had been there for her when Strike had fired her. For a moment, she saw him as flawless, made for her, eternal. The storm around her dissipated as quickly as it had come, brilliant sunshine illuminating the city below her.

She breathed out. Then, she slid over a lane to take the very next exit available to her. Her doubts had been exhaled to mix with the sea breeze pouring in through her opened window.

There was an hour before she had to meet Hardacre, and the time seemed to be a blessing. A rough plan for the coming days was forming, and she wanted to put one of the first steps into motion. Pulling into a convenience store, she checked her bank account balance, Google Maps, and a document called "Useful Numbers". In the bathroom, she changed into a fresh blouse, let her hair down, and applied makeup. Thick black eyeliner did little to take away the wildness in her eyes, and she the grin she subdued in order to put on lipstick bordered on manic. The woman standing in front of her looked a wreck, harsh fluorescent lights yellowing her skin and revealing the puffy redness from crying. Her eyes flashed determinedly, telling a different story.

She had forgotten how full of possibility her mind was when she let it wander freely.

Finding the place she was looking for proved difficult, but she arrived just in time. A powerful blast of salt air rose up to meet her, heavy with brine. A wide expanse of choppy water met the slate grey shore with thick sea foam. Somewhere, far out over the firth, lay the open ocean, calling the daring. The earlier awful weather had frightened away any tourists, and the sky was still full of storm clouds biding their time. Only grizzled locals were at the beach on a day like today. A couple snuggled under an unnecessary umbrella, while further down, a small family huddled together, wrapped in towels. On the pier, two wizened fishermen abandoned their poles in favour of openly staring down the beach. This wasn't London, where all but the strangest phenomena went unnoticed. As such, heads turned toward the woman striding towards the breaking waves. Her red gold hair whipped in the wind, and her beautiful face wore an expression that was hard to name. Her smile was beatific, but her eyes were stormy like the sea itself. It was a look of resolve, hard fought for, and hard won, but triumphant.

The water skimmed the hems of her trousers, but Robin didn't care. With her eyes on the endless whitecaps, she slipped the ring from her finger. She hesitated for just a moment, seeing her past wink at her from the sapphire's surface, before throwing it into the sea.


End file.
